


Tell The Sky

by coloursflyaway



Series: Hartwin Week [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4587888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been seventeen years since Harry has allowed someone else to sleep in his bed.<br/>Or: The first time Eggsy stays the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell The Sky

**Author's Note:**

> For the first prompt: First times.

It’s been seventeen years since Harry has allowed someone else to sleep in his bed.  
Seventeen years, Harry thinks, and looks at Eggsy’s sleeping face, his green eyes closed, dark lashes fanning out over his cheeks. The last person, all those years ago, had been a woman he had thought herself in love with, which is hard to believe, when he remembers looking at her and feeling warm affection and looks at Eggsy now and feels like his heart is beating for this boy, and him alone.  
Her name had been Angelique, and she had been as beautiful as dangerous, a brilliant, ruthless temptress who had left him for a man twice his age, but thrice his money.

Back then, he had been captivated by the way Angelique seemed to float instead of walk, woke up with her skin smooth and pale, her eyes as bright as they were before she went to sleep, but now it seems to be the complete opposite what draws him to Eggsy.  
Eggsy is restless when he sleeps, turns and tosses, hogs the cover; he stumbles over the shoes he leaves carelessly in the hall, spills tea on the counter when making breakfast and still cannot tie a Windsor knot to save his life. He’s not graceful, elegant only when he pretends to be someone else, and six months ago, before he met Eggsy in front of Holborn police station, he would never have thought that he would like that in a person.  
That he would be captivated by a too-loud laugh, entranced by the sound of winged trainers slapping on the concrete, fascinated by dropped Hs and drawn out vowels. Falling in love with hands which cannot make a martini and lips which slur out words after four of them.

And yet here he is, watching Eggsy’s jaw clench and relax again, his fingers curling around the blanket. He’s beautiful, but that’s no surprise; it’s something that Harry has known for months and something which almost feels unimportant now, compared to all the rest. Compared to Eggsy’s laugh, the way he walks and his love for too-sweet sodas.

Reaching out, Harry brushes his fingertip over the contours of the boy’s face, from his temple down to his jaw, over to his chin. He always thought Eggsy to be a light sleeper and yet he doesn’t even stir, his eyes staying closed as Harry traces his lips with touches feather light and gentle.  
He’s kissed Eggsy’s lips countless times, and yet it still feels impossibly intimate to be allowed to touch Eggsy like this, to be so close to the boy.  
His finger travels up over Eggsy’s cheek once more, flits across the tiny gap in his left eyebrow, then strokes down the bridge of the other’s nose, only to land on his lips again; somehow, it seems that he always ends up there, with his fingers, his gaze, his mouth.

This time, Eggsy moves, just a little, buries his face a bit more in the pillows, and Harry can’t help but smile, his heart flooding with affection for this boy, who feels safe enough with him that he doesn’t even wake, doesn’t move away.  
If he could, Harry would move in and crush Eggsy against his chest, feel the other pressed against him, but some weeks ago, the boy has told him about nightmares, so disturbing him when he looks so peaceful sounds too cruel.

So instead, Harry continues to lightly trace Eggsy’s jaw, his fingers sometimes straying down to the boy’s throat, over his pulse point. He might be touching Eggsy like that for another hour, maybe just a few more minutes, until the boy stirs underneath Harry’s fingertips.  
Waking up is a slow process for Eggsy, it seems, all fluttering eyes and lazy movements, smacking lips. It’s adorable and Harry watches, not wanting to miss a moment of it, of the first day of their new life.

“Good morning”, Harry greets softly, smiling despite himself, just because Eggsy is here and he never wants to let him go again.  
“Mornin’”, Eggsy replies, the word half muffled by the pillows Eggsy is still snuggled into. He sounds warm and soft and happy, reaches out to catch Harry’s hand, which is still resting on the boy’s collarbone. “Can’t remember the last time I slept so well.”  
“I hope that’s not just because you didn’t have to share your bedroom with a couple of other recruits.” Harry smiles, curls his fingers around Eggsy’s and lifts their hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to Eggsy’s knuckles. He’d kiss the boy’s lips too, but neither of them has had time to brush their teeth yet, so he postpones it. They still have time.  
“’s probably part of it, but definitely not all”, Eggsy answers, smiles, and Harry is once more struck by the thought that he knows he could change the boy easily and for good and yet prefers him exactly the way he is.

“I can live with that, I think”, Harry replies after a few seconds, drags the pad of his thumb over Eggsy’s knuckles. They’re roughened by punching dummies and mats and other people; Harry can’t help but wonder how it would have felt to do this before the boy’s training started. To be so close.  
“’s good because I definitely prefer ya alive.”  
The words are nothing special, just an answer, a light jab, but Eggsy’s tone makes them so, it’s soft and affectionate, and sometimes, Harry wonders if they are in too deep, Eggsy because of how his voice sounds and Harry because of how much he likes it that way.  
“Then I’ll do my best to stay that way.”  
“Good.”

For a few moment, neither of them speaks. It’s one of the silences which Harry loves so much – one of those which happen because no words are needed and not because they aren’t able to think of any.  
“So if I pass the last test…”, Eggsy starts, sounding a bit more hesitant than before, a lot less like the boy Harry met all those months ago, who had been so confident, so cocky.  
“When”, Harry interrupts, which is unlike him, but still feels important.  
“Okay.” Eggsy rolls his eyes, but he sounds pleased anyway. “ _When_ I pass the test, are we gonna be- I mean, is this gonna change? The thing between us. Is that allowed?”

The hand Harry is holding tightens around his own, fingertips pressing into his skin, and Harry squeezes back. He can’t deny that he likes Eggsy worrying about this, no matter how horrible that sounds, but it shows that Eggsy cares, really cares.  
“It’s going to change”, Harry admits, watches Eggsy tense. “Not like that, darling boy. There are no rules against...ah, _fraternisation_ between agents. Things will change, though; there is no way that they won’t. But if you are asking if you becoming Lancelot will change the fact that there is something between us, it won’t. I won’t let it and I think you won’t let it either.”

“Damn right I won’t.” Eggsy looks happy and determined and almost fierce, eyes shining and burning bright. He is gripping Harry’s hand tightly and Harry squeezes back, stores the look on Eggsy’s face away in his memory, to admire again when he needs to be reminded of something that makes fighting worth it.  
“So does that mean that if- I mean, _when_ – I become Lancelot, we’ll have a date? Like, a proper one?”

He sounds hopeful and so much more confident than before; Harry smiles and kisses his knuckles again instead of kissing Eggsy’s lips. The boy will make it, he just knows it, there is no way Eggsy could not become a Kingsman.  
“Yes, darling boy. Absolutely. The Ledbury, tonight? I’ll get us a table.”  
And Eggsy beams at him, hair a mess and sleep still clinging to his eyes; Harry feels his heart stop and start beating again just for him.  
“ _Yes, Harry_.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


End file.
